No Rest For The Wicked
by monscandal
Summary: Kenny/Christophe/Gregory Kenny is drunk, Gregory is smug, and Christophe is willfully obtuse. Also at some point a threesome happens.


One thing that had been true about Kenny for a very long time was that he thoroughly enjoyed alcohol. A recent discovery was that he especially liked it when Christophe was around and drinking too. He would ramble on and on in his stupid French accent, the handle of his shovel bumping against Kenny's shoulder as he gestured wildly with a lit cigarette, displaying little regard for whether or not he set someone's hair on fire.

In fact, it was exactly this desire to experience a little blasphemy and potential arson that had spurred him to ask Christophe to hang out one night, even though they still barely knew each other outside of school and, more recently, getting drunk together at a few parties. And Kenny's ridiculous crush on him, of course, but that was a whole different thing.

Currently they were wandering down some side-street in the wrong part of town (that is to say as wrong as South Park got, which wasn't very), passing a cigarette back and forth in companionable silence and occasionally downing some of the beer that they'd paid a hobo to buy for them. It was sometime around midnight and a balmy 48 degrees outside, but the cold and the sketchiness barely even registered. Illicit activities always made Kenny feel more invincible than usual. Plus he was pretty sure that Christophe was packing heat, so that was that.

Christophe looked up from where he'd been messing with his phone, bluish light briefly illuminating his face before he put it back in his pocket.

"My friend Gregory's coming to join us," he said. His accent came through stronger when he had been drinking, his voice fluid and deep. "If that's cool with you," he added as an afterthought, even though it was pretty obviously a done deal.

"Sure," said Kenny, trying not to sound too disappointed. Trying to trick Christophe into making out with him at some point had been kind of a stupid plan, anyway.

They walked in further silence for a few more minutes, this one more anticipatory than before. Since it was a new moon and investing in street lamps didn't appear to be one of South Park's primary concerns, the only light source was the glowing tip of the cigarette currently hanging out the side of Christophe's mouth.

Kenny figured this was a good enough reason as any to stare at Christophe's mouth for a while. He ended up getting so engrossed that he didn't notice the approaching footsteps until they were right behind him.

There was a flash of rather ridiculously white teeth, and for a moment Kenny was terrified. Then whoever it was slung an arm briefly around Christophe's shoulders and then fell in step beside them, and the fear was replaced with a vague, bristling sort of jealousy.

"This is Gregory," said Christophe. Kenny had managed to deduce that much.

"I managed to deduce that much," he tried to say, but it came out kind of jumbled. Gregory gave him an amused look.

Christophe punched his friend on the arm in a grudgingly affectionate sort of way that probably would have knocked Kenny over.

A lone car passed by them on the street and Kenny was able to get a brief look at Gregory in the glare of the headlights. He had blonde hair like Kenny's and he was also wearing orange, but he looked much more well-groomed and also less drunk.

In his inebriated state, Kenny felt slightly afraid that Gregory was actually some kind of new and improved pod-person Kenny who was going to kill him and steal his identity or something, but he was more immediately preoccupied with the way he and Christophe were looking at each other.

"Pleasure to meet you," said Gregory in a fancy British accent, and smiled at him politely. Then he took the last drag of the cigarette that Kenny and Christophe had been sharing before flicking the butt to the ground, which was so not on that Kenny couldn't even handle how not on it was.

Christophe didn't appear to notice, but Kenny knew that was total bullshit. It was common knowledge that he was a ninja or a mercenary or whatever you called it, and you didn't get to be one of those by acting willfully obtuse. He was probably enjoying this, the bastard.

Kenny resolved immediately to stop acting like a douchebag, if only so he wouldn't be giving Christophe the pleasure. He wasn't even a jealous person, really, but he guessed the beer and the crush and their close proximity had brought out the worst in him.

While Kenny muddled through this epiphany, Gregory was busy going on about how he and Christophe were old friends and how he almost never got to come down and visit, and Christophe was calling Gregory an asshole in the stupid French way that he once called Kenny an asshole which meant that he probably didn't think you were an asshole at all.

Kenny just took a deep breath and concentrated on not acting like a douchebag, and after a while he was concentrating so hard that he tripped on a crack in the stupid pavement and Christophe put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, and held it there for a second longer than was strictly necessary. Kenny's intestines did a sort of giddy jig.

After a couple more minutes of walking, the three of them stopped off and leaned against a brick wall for reasons that Kenny couldn't quite ascertain and didn't really care about, seeing as that last beer had been his fourth of the night and he was entering drunken territory. He tipped his head back to look at the stars and considered going home and leaving Christophe and Gregory to their ninja reunion, or whatever. He was vaguely aware of them whispering conspiratorially to each other somewhere next to him and decided that was probably a good idea.

Before he could act on this thought, however, Christophe's face came looming towards him out of the darkness, a freshly lit cigarette clamped between his lips and traveling towards Kenny's face at an alarming rate. It stopped just shy of the tip of his nose and Christophe peered into his eyes like he was looking for something. Appearing dissatisfied with whatever he found, Christophe backed off until Kenny's nose was out of immediate danger and turned to Gregory.

"I don't think 'e is drunk enough," he said.

Kenny frowned. "What the fuck?" he meant to ask, but it came out sounding more like a general statement.

"Try anyway," Gregory said dismissively. Christophe shrugged, and then all of a sudden his face was back, sans cigarette, and he was kissing Kenny right in front of Gregory and anyone else who cared to look.

Kenny flailed his arms ineffectually for a few moments, but he gave up pretty quickly. This was partly because he knew it was a lost cause and partly because of the way that Christophe's hand was curled over the nape of his neck, thumb lined up carefully against the pulse beating on the side.

His mouth moved with Kenny's easily, slow and hot and most definitely not appropriate for any kind of public area, deserted and pitch-dark or no. Kenny pressed forward almost unconsciously, hands coming up around Christophe's waist to steady himself.

They broke apart and Christophe smirked at him, still smoothing his thumb over Kenny's pulse.

From behind them, Gregory made a self-satisfied noise that served to remind Kenny of his presence and be subsequently horrified. Apparently it reminded Christophe, too, because all of a sudden he was moving away from Kenny and towards Gregory and then they were kissing, too, and Kenny's brain was in danger of exploding.

Gregory's bottom lip caught between Christophe's and Christophe set his teeth against it, holding the sides of Gregory's face like he needed to keep him in place even though it didn't look like Gregory needed a whole lot of incentive to stay. Gregory exhaled sharply and pressed back hard enough to bruise, hand fisted in the fabric of Christophe's t-shirt.

Kenny squinted at them through the murky darkness, slack-jawed. He wasn't particularly virginal, but he sure as hell had never experienced anything like what he was starting to get the feeling that this was going to turn into. He expected to feel nervous or horrified or something, but all he was left thinking after they had broken apart was that it had been really fucking hot. They both turned to look at him expectantly. Not quite able to think of a way to verbalize his assent, Kenny just took a measured step towards them and tried not to turn red.

Gregory smiled and stepped forward himself, until he and Kenny were practically nose-to-nose. He was annoyingly handsome up close.

The polite expression never left Gregory's face, but Kenny thought he could detect some sort of challenge behind his carefully neutral eyes. Not about to take that lying down, Kenny fisted his hand unabashedly in Gregory's perfect blonde hair and tugged him down for a kiss, rough and demanding.

He could almost taste faint traces of Christophe's cigarette in Gregory's mouth, and the thought only emboldened him further, tongue pressing against Gregory's insistently and pushing forward until they were standing flush against each other. Gregory's response was as voracious as Kenny's advance, nipping his bottom lip a bit harder than was probably necessary and then dragging his tongue slowly across the affected area.

This went on for a few more seconds, and then Christophe was yanking Kenny back against him with relative ease and burying his face in the junction between Kenny's neck and shoulder as Gregory looked on. Kenny stood there dumbly for a few moments as Christophe fumbled sightlessly with the crotch of his jeans, not understanding that he was trying to get the zipper undone until it had already happened.

"Wait, what-" he started, but broke off as Christophe huffed out a breath against his skin and began to rub the palm of his hand slowly and deliberately across the front of Kenny's boxers, causing him to break off and let out a sharp breath.

He started kissing his way up the side of Kenny's neck, distracting kisses that were slow and burning and attentive with the occasional ghost of teeth. Kenny's eyes struggled to focus on Gregory, standing in front of him with his calm demeanor only looking slightly ruffled.

This was weird. This was so fucking weird, but Kenny was drunk and Christophe was kissing him and there was still that flicker of a challenge in Gregory's face, and all of these things combined made Kenny sag backwards bonelessly against Christophe's ridiculous abs and allow himself to be felt up, tilting his head so that Christophe could get at more of his neck and shivering a little at the measured press of Christophe's palm against his boner through a maddening layer of clothing.

After a few minutes of that, during which Gregory was beginning to look less and less composed, Christophe finally reached down the front of Kenny's underwear and took him in his hand, at the same time beginning to carefully suck a bruise onto a sensitive area of Kenny's throat.

Kenny's knees may have gone slightly weak as something warm and thrilling flared in the pit of his stomach, causing his breath to hitch and his hips to jerk up into Christophe's hand.

There was an almost inaudible noise from where Gregory was standing and then he was closing the distance between them like he couldn't stand it, leaning over Kenny to kiss Christophe urgently, his hand moving to join Christophe's on Kenny's dick.

Kenny's eyes widened and struggled to focus as he stood trapped between them, feeling both of their hands fisting clumsily over his cock, fingertips tangling with each other's and occasionally grazing his head, causing little sparks of pleasure to shoot their way up Kenny's spine. It was ridiculous, of course, but Kenny thought that he might have been able to distinguish their hands from each other, Christophe's rough and calloused and Gregory's smooth and graceful. Kenny was dimly aware of Christophe and Gregory breaking apart and coming towards him, and then all three of them were kissing in a desperate muddle of spit and teeth. It shouldn't have been hot at all but it _was_, and achingly so.

Kenny bucked up weakly into Christophe and Gregory's hands, panting into their mouths as he got closer. He hovered on the edge for a moment, and then someone's thumb brushed the underside of his cock and he was coming, slumping back against Christophe and breathing harshly.

Once Kenny had managed to get himself under control, zipping his jeans back up and trying not to think about the uncomfortably sticky wet spot in his boxers, he turned to face Christophe. No one had said anything about him having to return the favor, but he found with a certain measure of surprise that he wanted to.

Refusing to show any amount of uncertainty even though he was definitely feeling it, Kenny leaned up to kiss Christophe while he fumbled with the zipper of his pants, trying to look as though he was in total control of the situation. Going by the muffled noise that Gregory made behind them, he wasn't doing that bad a job.

Christophe looked on impassively, which would probably be more discouraging if that wasn't what he looked like all the time.

Kenny crowded into Christophe's space, nuzzling blindly along the side of his face and managing to stick a hand down his pants, which he thought was pretty smooth of him considering that he was still buzzed and he'd just come.

Christophe gave no indication that he noticed what Kenny was doing, save for an almost inaudible hitch in his breathing. Kenny allowed himself to feel briefly self-satisfied before devoting his full concentration to finding a rhythm.

Kenny dimly registered the telltale noises that meant Gregory was getting off behind them. Feeling obligated to put on a show, he sped up the pace and flicked his wrist in a way that actually elicited a bitten-off groan from Christophe.

It was over quickly after that, Christophe coming in Kenny's hand and muttering something that sounded like an apology through harsh breaths. Not entirely sure what else to do, Kenny wiped his hand on Christophe's pants. Christophe made a huffing noise but he couldn't really be all that pissed, Kenny reasoned, because Kenny had totally just given him a rad handjob.

Anyway, Christophe put an arm around Kenny's shoulders and pulled him in close and they watched Gregory get himself off together, his head thrown back and pale skin seeming to catch and absorb what little light came from the stars above. It was pretty hot, even Kenny had to admit.

Gregory gave a full-body shudder that Kenny took to mean that he had come and then adjusted himself in his pants with the same measure of distaste as Kenny had displayed, walking over to lean against Kenny's shoulder. The three of them stood there, trying to quiet their breathing and passing Christophe's cigarette back and forth.

"Shit," said Kenny finally, because really, what else was there to say?

"Shit," Gregory agreed, sounding rather smug.

"Sheet, Christophe supplied helpfully, and then he started talking as if nothing had happened at all.

He gestured wildly and bumped Kenny's shoulder like he always did, but this time there was Gregory on the other side, telling Christophe to put down that cigarette before he burned something down and idly voicing his disagreement with some of Christophe's more ridiculous points. Kenny stood in the middle of them and looked back up at the stars. There would probably be hell to pay for this in the morning, but for the moment he just couldn't bring himself to care.

* * *

I would really appreciate it if you would let me know what you thought of this, because I don't do the porn thing often, and I spent a weirdly long time writing this fic. Thank you!


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